Years ago, when I was in my mid-30s, I attended a church service where the pastor was preaching about something he’d recently seen a member of his flock do. You’ll have to guess what this was for the time being, but it wasn’t robbing a bank or convenience store.
After the message ended, I meekly asked an assistant pastor whether Pastor Prevo was using me as an example in his sermon. Glenn Clary gave me a serious stare and then said, “No, Mike, but you’re evidently under conviction.”
That was good to hear, because when I flipped some guy off for suddenly cutting in front of me, I was positive no one had seen me do it besides the other driver. Evidently, someone else in our congregation, in a fit of road rage, also gave the one-finger salute in retaliation, and the pastor observed him.
When I told my wife about it, she said it didn’t matter whether the preacher saw me or not because God sees everything we do. I knew that, but sometimes, in the heat of battle on city roads while maneuvering through traffic, irritations can bring out the worst in me.
My mother would’ve told me that my toes were stepped on that Sunday morning, and that my reaction was an old-fashioned way of knowing I was under conviction. When a preacher says he “stepped on someone’s toes” during a sermon, it typically means that his message touched on sensitive or personal topics that made individuals feel uncomfortable or convicted.
It’s often a way of indicating that the preaching brought to light issues or behaviors that need reflection or change. The phrase suggests that the sermon was impactful enough to resonate with someone in the congregation, leading them to reconsider their actions or beliefs.
I don’t use the infamous salute these days, but on occasion, the temptation has arisen. “Go with the flow” is now my motto. What that means for me is to whisper something under my breath, generally calling them the two-word version of “donkey,” and to avoid any physical contact with the annoying driver by not looking at them.
The other afternoon in rush hour traffic, at the notorious Mulberry and Highway 95 red light, a fellow in front of me thought I was too close to his rear bumper. We were stopped, so what difference did it make?
When the light turned green, he just sat there, trying to make me sit through another red. He finally took off, and I made it through as well, just as the yellow turned red. Not wanting to deal with this guy any further, I held back. Unfortunately, the light at Swanson caught us, and he suddenly changed lanes, ending up directly beside our Jeep.
Yelling at us with his window rolled down, my wife opened hers to see what the man’s problem was. At this point, the guy started making pig-like grunts and telling us how ugly our vehicle was. I already knew that, so it was no insult. For whatever it’s worth, he appeared to be the same age as us.
Wanting to say something retaliatory in return, I bit my tongue. Watching him continually mouth off, I noticed that the man’s teeth were as yellow as a banana peel. For whatever reason, I shouted across Joleen’s lap, “Have you thought of brushing or flossing?”
That did the trick, because he shut up and took off like a jackrabbit when the light turned green. Joleen had me wheel off Highway 95 at the nearest cross street to avoid additional conflict.
Why he instantly clammed up is easy to answer. My short message that day most likely placed him under hygienic conviction. It works the same as when you tell someone they have halitosis, as that’ll stop a conversation like right now!
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